One Hell Of A Night ~~~ Lashton fanfic

Chapter 2

~~ It's currently 12 in the morning, and I want food...
Here comes Luke! Love you all, stay strong, my little chickens ;3 ~~

I shyly followed behind Michael. The bar was filled up to the brim with men who apparently liked other men. They were grabbing drinks, they were dancing to their hearts' content. They were talking, on their phones, laughing their heads off. Some were passed out drunk, lying on the ground or on the bar table. Others were still sober, bobbing their heads to the shitty music playing through the overhead speakers.
The only difference between this bar and the outside was that it had liquor. Michael told me that apparently this bar's lights broke down ages ago, the manager's just been too lazy to fix it.
He turned and pointed to a spot over in the corner of the bar table. "You can sit there if you're not comfortable following along," he yelled out, but I didn't hear him. I quickly made my way over there and sat down on a stool. It was quieter here, but the loud pumping bass was still ringing in my ears. It was annoying, but it would eventually grow onto me and get stuck in my head. That reminds me of this one time were my ex and I were at my apartment making pancakes and hot cocoa at three in the morning. The music we had was so loud that we managed to wake Michael up...
Suddenly, everything I've ever done came flooding back to me. In an instant, I questioned why she broke up with me. I questioned why my only friend had to be gay and why I couldn't have been more social back in high school. I asked myself what the fuck I was doing here, and why I had no life, and why I had such a negative outlook on everything, and why...
The bartender came to my assistance just in time. "Whiskey. Rum. Liquor. Tequila. Vodka. Gin. Anything you have, I'll take." He didn't ask what was wrong, just went and did as he was told. Maybe he should've talked to me. That way I wouldn't have been so depressed.

Four shots of whiskey, eight shots of rum, three shots of vodka, and one checkup from Michael, I was drunk beyond disbelief. The world looked fuzzy. I felt weightless, yet I felt like vomiting up what I'd just put in me. The music's tempo went slower, then faster, and it made it almost impossible to keep in time with.
I pushed away my shot glass and laid down on the bar table. The music got stuck in my head, and I let out a smile. Why was I here again? I can't remember. My entire world suddenly revolved around liquor, and my throat began to yearn for the heated alcohol to be gliding down my throat, burning its way through my esophagus and past that thick layer of skin, and all of a sudden, I needed it again.
"Another one! Please..." He nodded and slid over my shot, which I took with great discomfort all over my body. I don't really know what came over me, but I was suddenly liking this bar-club-strip...
My brain was overheating. I didn't want to think.
I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I turned around, hoping it was Michael.
Instead, I felt a pair of unknown lips crash into mine. I fell backwards on the table, grabbing onto whatever I could find to steady myself from being lip attacked. I stared up at the hair. Short blonde hair was sticking up in a little quiff. His lips tasted like peppermint, and I was beginning to enjoy the feeling of having someone else's body pressed up against mine. I felt a thin cold metal strip pressing down against my bottom lip. I haven't felt this free since the breakup.
I felt his body grind up against mine. It felt nice, and I could instantly tell he had a boner. At least he's now not the only one. His tongue begged for entrance, which I did not allow. Until I saw his face, French kissing wasn't going to happen, no matter how badly I wanted it to. He attempted to nip at my lower lip so I could gasp from the pain, I suppose, and let his little tongue in, but I had thicker skin. Plenty of girls have tried this move. All of them failed. He let out a frustrated groan. He tried once more, a bit harder. Involuntarily, I let out a little pleased moan. Shit, that was not supposed to happen. I'm becoming gayer by the second. I could feel his smirk riding his face. He accomplished his goal, and he was proud, but his tongue did not invade. I could tell he was thinking about it.
He pulled away all too soon. I felt an unknown sensation rushing up my spine, but they felt so good to be there. I watched as the man gave me a smile. His face suddenly shifted to shock, then confusion, then guilt. He backed away, before coming back to me but staying a good distance away from me.
"Oh my God, I'm... I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you weren't..." He squeezed his eyes shut. He had baby blue eyes, just like her. He also had blonde hair, just like her. I looked down to see him wearing a Nirvana tank top. Oh my sweet Jesus. Was this a sign, God? Was he the identical male version of my ex lover? "Shit. Oh my... I'm really sorry. From the back, you guys look so similar-"
Without thinking about what I was doing, I reached for his face and smashed it against mine. This time, it was his turn to look shocked and a bit off guard. He pushed me off and took a step back. I took a step forward.
"What's your name?" I asked him seductively. He stopped walking back, but I continued walking forward until I was directly in front of him. His back was now pressed up against a wall. It was then I realized how tall he was. He was almost taller than me.
I placed my limp arms on both sides of him, making it nearly impossible for him to leave.
"My... my name is Luke..." His head turned and looked behind me. He gave me a slight smile. "And you? What's your name?" His voice sounded shy and unfamiliar, but I was okay with that. I felt like a little kid. So immature my dad would state sternly, so childish my mom would say disappointedly.
I was now using the wall for support. "Ash..." I yawned.
"Ash? Like... Ashton?" I nodded, taking my arms off the walls and staggering over to my seat by the bar table. I suddenly felt extremely tired. I placed my head on the table. I saw a figure sit down next to me and copy my motions. He plopped his head down and looked at me.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I shrugged, before letting all the alcohol I'd just put in myself take over.
"I'm tired, Luke." I rubbed my eyes. "You're cute."
"Thanks? Umm... Did you come with anyone?"
I shook my head. "Not of this. Of everything. I'm... I'm tired of everything..." I shut my eyes. The booming music took over. At that moment, I cared for nothing more than to get a good night's sleep. Where the hell was Michael?
The weight of the world grew to be too much for me. One moment I was lying against the bar table, the next I was facing the cold hardwood floor. The world somehow turned upside down, then upside down for everyone else. I was tired. I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.
I saw his blue eyes peering down at me. His face shouted concern and worry. He looked frightened, yet I trusted him even though we had just met. I trusted him. The reason, I don't really know.
I faded out, listening to his voice softly calling my name. I used this as my lullaby.